Impasse
by RasberryGirl
Summary: When you are an ocean, placid and turbulent in equal measure, summoned by the pull of a moon...is it possible to defy nature? To resist the rising of a tide? S/U, mainly Spock POV. Part 2 brings clarity.
1. Lockdown

**Impasse: Part 1/2 **

_Disclaimer: Don't own them_

_A/N: This two shot and its summary was inspired by a favorite Jeff Buckley song of mine (I would die with happiness if anyone guessed it). This may be expanded in a longer fic later in which certain questions will be answered. I'm not too confident writing drama so I greatly appreciate input of all kinds. Thanks for reading. _

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Just as he'd known it would not, Spock's life did not flash before his eyes in the moments before expiration. Instead, he focused on controlling every nerve, muscle and synapse so that his body was perfectly still.

He knew this cooperation would not save his life: it was a result of his Vulcan desire of control and honor, even in the face of the death. The deceptively strong hand draped around his neck tightened in anticipation. Less than a minute before it had broken his left arm in no less than three places.

It was the same injury Spock had inflicted upon the female Klith lying in a heap behind them, killing her instantly. A horrible miscalculation that was not meant to take her life—despite the mutinous female's attack, her people were recognized by the Federation as an insular yet peaceful race. The Enterprise's away team had disarmed on the shuttle as an act of goodwill and left their communicators in their lodging during the ceremonial meal. Both acts which had been beneficial in the past two trade negotiations on Tau Klith. Nothing had gone awry until less than five minutes ago when one of the lithe, pearlescent-skinned females had inexplicably attempted to deal a murdering blow to their captain, inciting Spock to intervene with seemingly non-lethal force.

He knew without needing to confirm that the female's grief-stricken mate—holding him now in a death grip—would not be assuaged until her loss was appropriately avenged.

Spock's teeth clenched a fraction as beautiful brown eyes met his. He didn't want her to speak or move. He hardly wanted her to blink. His own lack of physical movement allowed him to channel his remaining energy into the form of this final unspoken plea, over and over again, communicated solely through the fragile, alien bond link which rationally should not even exist.

The receiver of his repetitive message appeared oddly composed while the doctor at her feet furiously worked to revive their badly wounded captain. Even in those final, motionless moments Spock did not regret his death as it would spare his human colleagues from equally senseless ends. McCoy had done everything in his power to halt this execution short of offering himself in place; Kirk had been incapacitated trying to do just that.

Despite their beginning, both men had proven themselves more than worthy of not only respect, but friendship—something he had not thought he was capable of, especially in Kirk's case. He trusted they would care for her once he was dead.

A clear, firm voice suddenly broke the silence.

"Wait."

As if in a trance, Spock watched as Uhura slowly stepped forward, her mouth and eyes set in a tranquil mask to rival his own, the raven fall of her hair a deep contrast to the crimson Starfleet uniform impeccably fitted to her every curve. She moved with a quiet confidence that completely belied the coiling fear pulsing wordlessly from her mind to his.

In that moment, with equal fervor, he loved and hated her.

Again, she spoke.

"_A_ _m__onuk'h. Q'aa fulor_**.**" **He is mine. Take me in place**_._

The male Klith's grip loosened infinitesimally. A low growl rose in Spock's chest.

"_Ti'uq da__**, "**_ he intoned, teeth bared.** End this now.**

Emerald blood dripped from his clenched fist into the cold beige dust, flowing freely from the broken skin of his useless, throbbing arm as he waited for his life to end. But the Klith's eight-fingered hand remained lax on his throat.

"_The Vulcan murderer will die if he utters another word. You wish to invoke the rite of Q'aa'fulor'uxun. Confirm this_," the Klith ordered Uhura in his native tongue, his pupil-less eyes glinting a silver blue.

Uhura looked over one shoulder at McCoy, who was now red-faced with sudden understanding that the one person who could unlock the emergency communicator was also the only one who could have ordered her to stand down.

"Dammit Jim, don't fucking do this now!" The doctor positioned an adrenaline hypospray over Kirk's chest and thrust it directly into his heart.

"Breathe godammit!"

Kirk spasmed twice but could barely take in a mouthful of the thin oxygen.

Eyes wide, Uhura turned to address the Klith again, this time punctuating her stilted speech with sharp hand gestures not unlike the tactile sign languages of Earth. A fine sheen of sweat glowed on her face and arms as she reiterated her statement twice more. Even now, her precision with this odd language their universal translators barely deciphered was nothing short of admirable. It was maddening.

Spock felt his fragile hold on sanity slipping...no. She was pulling it from him.

"Lieutenant Uhura, you will desist," he calmly ordered.

For a fleeting moment, as her eyes met his, Spock was lost in the strange depth of her expression. One that was simultaneously angry and apologetic. Scared, defiant. More than a little stubborn. All suffused with a mad love that he knew mirrored his own, something neither of them had felt before that moment.

A white-hot chill ran uncontrollably through him. The alien link pulsed and raged.

"_**Q'aa fulor. DA!**_"

Spock was unceremoniously thrown to the ground with feet still bound, but quickly rolled to his knees. The roar of protest died in his throat at the surreal image of Uhura now in his place, her left arm being snapped in half, just as his own had been.

Her high, piercing wail seemed to rouse Kirk to full consciousness. His entire body shook with jagged, bloody coughs, but he immediately began overriding the lock on the emergency communicator.

"Kirk to Enter--" he coughed again, spitting and hacking red,"--we need emergency transport NOW!"

Spock wildly thrashed against the non-lethal chokehold of a second Klith, who had seemingly appeared from nowhere. The creature had already wrenched McCoy from his own run towards Uhura seconds before.

Unable to stop the tremors from overtaking her body at the sight, she closed her eyes.

"Spock, _rish-tor_."

"NO!"

"_Energy signatures locked, Captain. Transporting in 5...4..._"

The disembodied voice was drowned by the crunch of the communicator under another Klith's foot, and Spock's hold on sanity broke in perfect synchronization with Uhura's neck.

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The sound of ripping fabric tore Spock from the nightmare of his memory. His breaths were nothing but short, painful bursts of air as he worked to control the maelstrom of his emotions, his still-flexing fingers now grabbing at nothing while the frenetic pounding in his temples slowly grounded him to the present.

He didn't need a mirror to know that his face must have been a living reflection of his current surrounding. The white cotton sheets were useless shreds; his comforter had spilled artificial hypoallergenic feathers from foot to headboard. Distantly, Spock found this continued lack of control unacceptable.

Almost as unacceptable as the fact that she was not lying in rest beside him.

He began to choke on another breath, then suddenly ran from the bed to the personal lavatory attached to his sleeping space. He dry heaved into the toilet, his pale skin flushing a sickly green. But there was nothing in his stomach to dispel. He had eaten only the bare minimum of nutrients for three days, ever since their return to the Enterprise after the horrific confrontation with the psychotic Klith and her mate. He could no longer deny his body the supplement it needed to function, but the thought of food made him nearly as nauseated as he had felt after the annihilation of Vulcan.

_Even then, you did not forsake your duty..._

Aside from a written account of what took place on Tau Klith, Kirk had not asked for an explanation of Spock's absence from the bridge and the Enterprise at large. The captain and chief medical officer had jointly authorized a medical leave for as long as necessary. The human part of him had been relieved; his Vulcan nature burned in self-disgust.

Spock peeled off his sweat-dampened sleep clothes and showered quickly, not caring that the lukewarm water sluicing over his body felt frigid on his clammy skin. He dried and dressed in a clean, pressed science officer uniform. Although it was gamma shift and the vast majority of the crew were in quarters for the night, his appearance would be beyond reproach to anyone who may encounter him on the way to his destination.

He strode through the dimly lit, empty halls of the ship at an even pace. Rode the turbolift down one level and turned left at the split of the corridor after exiting the lift. Instead of lifting his palm to gain entry, Spock quietly spoke into the intercom. Moments later she stood in the open doorway, as if an apparition in his dream.

"Spock...what's wrong?"

She frowned up at his impassive expression with concern.

"What do you need?"

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_Q'aa'fulor'uxun _(Klith): obscure rite in which one endures the punishment of their mate's crime

_rish-tor_ (Vulcan): to continue to live despite trauma (VLD)


	2. Opened Once

**Impasse: Part 2/2 **

_A/N: Hits M about ½ way through, though it's not really about the act (well, not just about it). Thank you for reading/reviewing. Feedback is appreciated :)_

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Spock felt oddly numb at the sight of her: the gentle rise and fall of her chest, damp hair curling over and down one shoulder, warm brown complexion vibrant with life. She wore nothing but a white standard-issue tank top and matching boy shorts revealing long, graceful limbs. Except for the tell-tale biobrace that signaled the fractures of her lower left arm, Uhura was healthy and whole.

He stared at her upturned face. Her eyes still shone with confusion and worry even as she stepped to the side.

"Come in." The door quietly slid shut behind them.

Wordlessly, Spock moved to stand against her back. He slid one of his hands between her hair and neck and curled it there, glancing his thumb over the quiet pulse of life beneath her skin. He silently contemplated this action for a full minute, then lowered his face to the exposed side of her throat, breathing in and releasing as if in meditation.

Uhura held her questions and placed her right hand on his. Her anger and worry over his unexplained absence was dampened by the echo of terror she was receiving by his touch. Through it, she knew that he needed this. To feel, hear and smell the life coursing through her. She wasn't sure what had suddenly brought this on, especially after such a firm rejection of her earlier attempts at contact. But she also wasn't sure she wanted to.

Nearly five minutes went by while the only sounds in the quarters were gentle breathing and the quiet, constant hum of the ship itself. It was as if space had expanded then contracted to surround the two of them in a peaceful vacuum.

All too soon, Spock released her. Uhura shivered as she turned to face him. She was unsurprised to see his handsome features arranged in their normal, unreadable mask.

"You're completely healed?"

"Nearly. The damage was skillfully repaired and my physiology hastened the amendment."

He hesitated. "Physically, I am fit for duty."

"Good. Kirk won't even consider clearing me yet," she replied with a small smile. But Spock's gaze traveled from her eyes and down her body, resting on the hard shell of her brace.

"He is correct. Your body has endured a great trauma, Nyota. You require rest and healing. I realize that my presence here is not conducive to this...I apologize for the intrusion."

"Come here."

She underscored the statement by moving forward to ball his tunic in both of her fists. He silently exulted, wanting more but unwilling to ask.

"Come here, Spock," she repeated.

He acquiesced, laying his forehead down to rest against hers. The terror which had flowed from him earlier had been replaced by a profound relief and affection that was intensified by her own.

"I've basically been sleeping for three days, pumped up on painkillers and micro-regenerators. I'm done with sleep. I only require you," she said in a softer tone, brushing her knuckles down the line of his jaw.

This time when she shivered, Spock didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around her slender waist. He rolled his face down to press his lips across her temple, against her ear lobe, down her cheek to finally linger again on her pulse. He gently sucked the skin there, murmuring his approval into her neck when she began to graze his scalp with her fingertips.

"Spock..." Uhura exhaled and curled her hands in his hair.

"Len told me you didn't leave my side while I was in surgery. He said you held my good hand the entire time." It was true. Despite the doctor's pained scowl, he did not regret it. "I'm trying to reconcile that with how you completely shut me out after I woke up. Why?"

He was temporarily struck by the accusation behind her heavily dilated pupils. "I was angry with you. I suppose...I still am."

The unconcealed hurt which blanketed expression said everything. Spock dropped his hands from her body and walked into the tiny kitchenette, where he programmed the replicator for chamomile tea.

"Mainly I am angry at myself, Nyota," he quietly continued. "My violent action on Tau Klith resulted in one death and was nearly the catalyst for two more, including yours. Meditation alone has yet to re-establish my equilibrium. I am uncertain that it will."

He stirred honey into the steaming cup before bringing it to her.

"To aid in your rest," he said, then perched on the arm of her sofa, watching her.

Although sleep was still the last thing on her mind, Uhura couldn't refuse the small but meaningful gesture. She took a long sip before setting the cup down on her organized desk top.

"Thank you."

Uhura paused, chewing her bottom lip in thought and idly fondled her brace. Spock imagined her arm ached to the bone, just as his had, but knew she would never admit it to him or possibly anyone but the chief medical officer. She turned to face him again and stepped between his legs to cradle his head in her hands.

"Listen to me," she stated firmly.

"You did nothing but fulfill your duty. You defended our captain, and judging by his injury you probably saved his life._ I_ made the choice to buy Len time to revive Kirk. If Engineering hadn't been able to transport us, transport _me,_ in time, that would've been the result of my own decision."

Spock felt the specter of that white-hot chill run through him as she pulled him closer. He pressed his cheek against the strong flutter of her heart.

"I would have deeply regretted the loss of Jim and Doctor McCoy. Their friendships have been a surprising yet agreeable addition to my life. However, the loss of you was...is my single greatest fear realized."

He inwardly cursed himself for this human urge to dwell on hypotheticals and verbally express them; Uhura only held him tighter.

"You haven't lost me, Spock. I'm here."

"Nyota..." The words died on his lips as she buried his returning terror with a kiss to his forehead and cheek, then his waiting mouth. It eventually deepened until their tongues were sliding together in a familiar dance, heating them both from within and illuminating a growing need that had been building the entire night. Feeling him swell through the fabric of his uniform, Uhura splayed one hand on his thigh and reached down with the other to lightly stroke his arousal.

His eyelids drifted half-shut as he pushed his own underneath her tank top, letting his fingers glance over her taut stomach and the curve of her waist before possessively squeezing a small, pert breast. Her long hair skimmed the tip of his left ear after he raised the fabric higher to taste and suck her supple flesh.

"There are things we need to discuss, Spock. I won't let us be distracted," Uhura sighed when his other hand followed the same journey as its predecessor. Despite her words, she raised her arms to allow him to draw the shirt off of her completely as he stood. She returned the favor, slipping his belt off for good measure.

"I mean it."

Intrigued, Spock looked from the leather strap Uhura wielded in semi-challenge to the way her body had molded against his hands. Her soft skin still held a slight dampness from her shower, although he knew its faint flush was the result of his current actions. Like himself, it seemed that Uhura's needs had betrayed her control. He couldn't tell if she was glad or disappointed when he moved his hands to rest platonically on her shoulders.

"Understood."

He slowly backed her against the wall. She let the belt fall to hold his slim hips and angled her face up for another deep kiss, pulling him further in so she could push his pants over his hips. Her breaths became shorter when he knelt to slide her underwear off; they stopped altogether once he rose to full height, trailing a hand along the inside of her leg as he stood.

"You wish to speak, Nyota," Spock breathed into her ear,. "If you cannot form a coherent thought, tell me to stop."

Her body hummed at the slow, languid pump of his fingers. She reached down between them to graze his erection with her nails, drawing a broken exhalation from him.

"Don't you dare," she whispered, wrapping her arms around his neck, "don't stop listening, either." He withdrew his fingers only to lift her by the backs of her thighs to eye level, asking without words what they both knew she would accept. Stifling a groan of pleasure against her open mouth, Spock allowed himself to fill her completely. For several minutes they lost all semblance of spoken conversation as they gave in to their sex.

Attuned to the echo of her unvoiced questions through her touch and their link, Spock finally shared the emotional impressions of his memory-dream. Felt her cold horror at the image of her dead, broken body. A false image, but one that had been mere seconds from reality. Something completely out of his control and powerless to end. He knew it was unhealthy to fear something that had not even happened, but it didn't stop the wave of desperation from rolling over them both.

"I hate that you're hurting. That you're angry with me. But I can't apologize for what I did..." Uhura pressed her face into his burning cheek with a whimper when his thrusts became long, loving strokes. She didn't argue when he lowered them to the floor. Spock hitched one of her legs under his arm to bury himself deeper, savoring the way her body was moving with his, wondering if it was wrong to allow this when she still required healing. Right then, Uhura slid her hands from his smooth shoulders and into his hair. She drew his head down plant tiny kisses on his swollen lips.

"Need you," she breathed in answer, and sighed as his grip on her thigh tightened.

Although Spock could feel the beginnings of Nyota's orgasm build within her, his was coming even sooner. He fought to prolong it by slowing their rhythm further and leaned forward to suck at the delicious thrum of her neck once more.

Her fingernails dug into the skin of his back when she felt a single demand begin to resonate from his mind to hers. It was an order, harsh and repeated and made impossible to ignore. She was too warm from their combined heat, the promise of completion rising in his every movement and the relentless chant in her mind.

"Damn it, Spock! I can't do that!" Uhura suddenly exclaimed. "I _would_ do it again. Even if it killed me."

His entire body shuddered. He knew it was the truth because he could feel it within every inch of her. The link slammed shut.

He raised his head to meet her unblinking gaze, not truly knowing what he was searching for but seeking nonetheless. Uhura dug her heel into his back side, impossibly pulling him in further. Their tempo sped again.

"Come inside me, _t'hyl'a,_ let me inside of you..."

Spock knew she was not only speaking of their physical release. Nyota wanted him to reopen that fragile alien link. A mere flicker while she was his aide, it had sparked to life after the destruction of his birth planet. He was certain that this connection was not a purposeful creation on his part: although they had been intimate for a year at the Academy and their ten months aboard the Enterprise, both of them had resisted a full mind meld.

Whatever it was that had manifested between them—allowing her to feel impressions of his volatile emotions without even touching him, in addition to the feelings he was often able to discern from her despite the same lack of tactility—Spock knew it was atypical of an unbonded Vulcan pair and unheard of between two human partners. It was something he wished to speak with his father about but had avoided.

Deep down he feared what it meant, but he knew Nyota would always find a way to open it, coaxing truth from him whether he was ready to face it or not.

It only took them seconds to release when he finally relented, with hers triggering his moments later, long and almost painfully intense.

Spock gradually came down to the sensation of pleasant aftershocks continuing to pulse through her body and met her halfway for a lazy, lingering kiss. Once he had regained complete control of his limbs and breathing pattern, he carried Uhura through the living room, sleeping area and onto her bed, where he allowed himself to be pulled against her chest. His thumb absently caressed her the underside of her breast while she attempted to smooth his unkempt hair, lightly massaging the back of his neck.

He felt her thinking of the undercurrent of dread which still flowed within him. It was much calmer at the moment, now free of any anger towards her, but omnipresent. Her motions stilled as her thoughts turned further inward.

Spock abruptly closed the link. He raised his head, hovering over hers with an unfathomable expression.

"You are aware of your meaning to me, Nyota, and yet you remain firm in your position."

Uhura's dark lashes fluttered as she blinked twice, but she wouldn't look at him. Instead, she slowly traced her fingertips over his left arm, stopping every time she encountered the faintest of green bruises revealing where bone had pierced through his pale skin less than a week ago. His sensitized nerve endings sang under her gentle touch.

"That creature said he would kill you if you spoke another word, and yet you still ordered me to desist."

Spock's brow drew together as she finally met his gaze. He didn't need to be fully human to know intrinsically what she was saying to him. He smoothed the hair away from her face and leaned in to kiss the tears that spilled down the curve of her cheek.

"It is not logical to dwell on what is done," he murmured against her skin. He moved behind her on the bed, careful to lay her bound arm alongside her body and drew the comforter over them both.

"Don't leave once I fall asleep. I'm making you a real breakfast in the morning."

"I will remain here. You must rest now."

He brushed his fingertips across her cooling forehead, projecting calm and peace. Within minutes the last remnants of tension left her limbs as her body settled in repose. Spock withdrew his hand to rest it on her bare stomach.

He breathed in the warm salt of her skin, the sweetness of her hair, thinking.

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t'hyl'a (Vulcan): soulmate


End file.
